The King's Despair
by foxfiresword
Summary: A story about Zephiel and what caused him to become the ruthless King of Bern.


A Zephy fic that I was thinking about writing. More chapters may appear. Read and Review andenjoy :)

Riding was one of his favourite activities.

The feel of the wind roaring past his ears, sifting through his hair, the shrieking of his wyvern, offered an escape from his life as the prince of Biran. He could see the castle courtyard from afar, and it seemed busy with gluttonous nobles who were attending one of the Kings random parties. The noises could be heard from above; the tables were lavishly decorated with vine bottles and several courses of meals. The royal family knew no bounds in gold, yet the king had recently raised taxes once again, and any family who could not pay up were often thrown into prison, all for the King's petty amusement. The faintest whisper of a revolution led to immediate executions and what more, the higher ups were bribed by Desmond, and so there was no incentive for them to turn against their king.

Prince Zephiel did not benefit from the coffers of his father and had to rely on his mother's wealth. The recent friction between Desmond and his son was growing. If there were ever a difference between father and son, it could be seen between those two. The father was vain, conceited, and brutally cruel, a man living only for pleasure, and as such was lazy and unable to do anything remotely physical. The son however was always eager to perfect himself in all areas, especially in combat. All his rivals and friends admired not only his sword arm, but also his brain. He was bright in his studies, and pleasant in his dealings.

All these qualities of the beloved prince of Biran were not enough, as the recent assassination attempt made on the prince's life had his thoughts jumbled in confusion and anxiety. Desmond blamed the occurrence on the Lycian nations, whom after witnessing Biran's military supremacy, and martial might, were afraid to let such a leading power continue unhindered. Zephiel heard rumours stating that a red haired, blue eyed, warrior, reportedly Eliwood of Pharae, had slain his attackers. Desmond dismissed it, saying a far more plausible reason for the prince's continued life, was that he had foreseen an attempt such as this, and hired a vast legion of mercenaries, some of which may very likely look like the young marquess. The King was convincing, but the Zephiel could not bring himself to completely believe the story

The prince of Biran neared the wyvern grounds of the castle. It was here that Biran's worthiest warriors were granted the honour of their reptilian mounts. The grounds were filled with screeching of the great winged reptiles as they roared disjointedly, in an almost eerie song. The smell of fresh sweat permeated the area, amplifying the intensity the Prince felt whenever he arrived. The central arena, as always, was occupied with trainees sparring violently with their spears, constantly yelling taunts at each other. The riders paused, and bowed when they noticed their prince. With Zephiel's nod they returned to their training. The stable master quickly attended to the dismounted beast after profusely greeting Zephiel.

"It is good to see you back, my prince," said a stable girl, walking out of a small cabin with violet eyes glittering merriment

"Oh come now Brenya, we are familiar enough to not get excited when seeing each other,"replied Zephiel smiling.

"I know but it isn't often that King Desmond lets you inside the castle grounds," she said solemnly

Zephiel felt his innards twisting, when he heard that name. The revolting king was hated by very nearly everyone, but to Zephiel, Desmond would still be his father.

"Ah… the King", Zephiel muttered nervously. He looked straight into her eyes, "Remember Brenya now that I am of age, I possess very nearly as much authority as my father," said Zephiel straightforwardly. He smiled again, and after putting a hand on her slender shoulder, continued "so don't worry yourself, the grounds are no longer a restriction."

Brenya smiled somewhat relieved after the prince's reassurance. The prince offered his hand, which Brenya shyly accepted, and the two made there way to the entrance of the courtyard, glad to be around each other once more. Zephiel always felt his heart warm up when he was beside Brenya. The stable girl made him feel wanted, and he admired her simple, yet cunning nature.

The shrubs, and flowers that generously decorated the area, although seemingly artificial, still made the place beautiful. Zephiel loved it here, as it was where he met Guinevere, who he found out later, with great surprise and joy, was his little sister.

Zephiel and Brenya found a gentle slope and sat together. The previous day, the prince discovered the stable girl crying, which after ordering her to tell why, was because of the assassination attempt. Zephiel learned, with happiness, her tears were because she was worried for him. When Zephiel looked down on her dark redish hair it almost looked purple.

"Next time we should fly together," said Zephiel gently, "even the soldiers admit how adept you are with your wyvern."

She laughed, "Hardly my prince, all a wyvern needs is respect and love, and afterwards you can bet that they will be your closest ally and… and friend." She laid her on the prince's shoulder. She sighed and continued, "even if their master treats them sorely afterwards, they will still serve him faithfully to the end"

Zephiel paused, reflecting on those words. There was something about Brenya that emanated simple wisdom which always made him feel calm and confident." Wyvern's and humans aren't too different then," Zephiel replied, "they respect those who give them respect, and love those who love them." He paused looking down at the sight of his father. The nobles were clapping their hands as the king poured wine down his lover's hair. Zephiel continued, "For us though, it's hard to love those that hate you."

Brenya put her calloused hand over Zephiel's. She looked at him sternly, "I don't know why you care for his opinion anyway." She continued "You are so wise for your age, strong, determined, and intelligent." She paused, and after not hearing a reply from the prince continued angrily, "Look at that man down there, using _our_ tax money to fill his coffers, and then throwing it away for all these lavish celebrations. He does not give an ounce of his wealth to his wife, offers no charity to the poor, and overburdens his_ real_ subjects. If you can bear to debase yourself into caring for that man, then it makes you that much more noble."

"Please Brenya," Zephiel replied painfully, "He is king to us both. It is only because I have disappointed him so much that he refuses to associate himself with me," he said sadly, looking once more at the sight of his rowdy father. "If anyone is at fault, it is I."

"You," Brenya shrieked, outraged. She looked around, and continued in a whisper, wary of any spies, "Why my liege, do you have to be so bloody noble? You are in all respects superior to your father." She grasped his hand with both of hers and looked straight into his eyes, "One day when that despot is dead, you will become a righteous, sincere, and a far greater king."

Zephiel continued looking at a drunken Desmond. The King had his hands grasped around the hair of his lover, this time handling her roughly. He closed his eyes and prayed Guinevere did not see this. He opened them once more, looking solemnly at the sight below.

Zephiel said coldly "You are correct Brenya, one thing is for certain."

He paused, his eyes unemotional, staring at the shameless king..

"I will be greater."


End file.
